


if it don't feel good/what are you doing it for

by noun



Category: Naruto
Genre: Discrete BUT Public Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Lap Sex, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noun/pseuds/noun
Summary: “Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura whined. “There’s no room for me to sit.”Kakashi shrugged.“‘First priority seating should be given to the elderly and veterans’,” he quoted. At her hand on hips, he clarified, “I’mboth.”
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 164
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	if it don't feel good/what are you doing it for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlingargents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/gifts).



> Title from 'Candy' by Robbie Williams.

Sakura was drunk.

She could burn it off with the Byakugo if she chose, so it said even more that she hadn’t, as clumsy and giggly as any civilian woman also in the bar. For the celebration, she’d even swapped her uniform for some sort of pretty blouse and long pleated skirt combo, utterly useless in a fight. Ino, he suspected, had played a hand.

The bar was crowned, a tight press of bodies heating the air up; chatter covering up conversation and coating everything in a convivial attitude only typical to a successful mission where no one had died, been maimed, or been forced to acknowledge uncomfortable truths about themselves or a teammate. 

Fun drinking, not depressing ‘help me forget’ drinking.

Therefore he had to stay for at least an hour, which he’d whittled down to half an hour by being thirty minutes late. 

Sakura was easy to pick out in the crowd with her bright hair. He watched her chatter at the bar with another kunoichi he didn’t know by name, while they toasted with nearly identical neon syrupy drinks. Sakura’s had a cherry on top.

He knew how she felt about things like 'inclusion' and 'not letting anyone drink alone in the corner like a sadsack' so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she slid through the crowd and over to him. The drink had a cherry and a straw and a little sword stabbed through the cherry. He bet it cost three times as much as the cup of liquor he was nursing. 

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura whined. “There’s no room for me to sit.”

Kakashi shrugged.

“‘First priority seating should be given to the elderly and veterans’,” he quoted. At her hand on hips, he clarified, “I’m both.”

He shouldn’t have antagonized her. 

She slid between the table and the wall, then plopped into his lap before he realized what she was doing. The bar was so crowded that the metal legs of the table shrieked forward less than a handspan before being stopped by the press of bodies. A man turned around to glare at them before realizing that Kakashi was a ninja and Sakura, smiling sweetly, was also probably a ninja, and turned back around.

“This works,” she chirped, and took a sip from her drink before setting it down on the table. “And now you can’t sneak out early.”

He made a token noise of protest, but a wordless one, so she couldn’t challenge him on any point he might raise. Sakura stirred her glass, and the shaved ice and fruit chunks spun round and round.

She didn’t sit still. She wiggled, she sat up to look for people in the crowd, she played with her drink. In other words, there was a lot of friction of her ass in his lap. She wasn’t, he knew, doing it on purpose, it was more that she was just drunk enough not to be able to follow through the consequences to their conclusion, and he wasn’t a horrible person who would kick her out of her seat just because he was … a horrible man doing his best not to react to having a squirming woman in his lap. He did his best to prevent the inevitable, tried to strain to overhear nearby conversations for the distraction, recited bingo book information to himself. It didn’t work. 

If he didn’t know better, he would have said she was doing it on purpose.

All Kakashi could hope for was that she wouldn’t notice. Or would notice, and be kind about it, to the tune of understanding why, as a medic, the man on whose lap she’d been bouncing had a hard-on for reasons other than being a pervert who’d intended to have one. 

In an attempt to make her stop, he grabbed her waist. She stilled, but then Kakashi realized the flaw in keeping her sat still on his lap.

His mouth felt very dry.

“Sakura,” he said, slowly. A further explanation- an apology- eluded him. He let her go, and pressed his hands flat on the table, where she could see them.

“Kakashi-sensei,” she said, and shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t make him feel any better. It felt good, the roll of pressure as she rocked from side to side, and that made him feel _worse_ , because she couldn’t possibly _know_ that it felt just as good as if she was trying to grind on him.

“For me?” she said.

She turned to look over her shoulder. The angle blocked her eyes, and her hair fell in front of her forehead. He could see her mouth well enough. The dye in the drink had stained the center red. He felt lightheaded. 

The trick of not being overhead was not to whisper, just to speak low. Whispers carried; attracted attention. Sakura’s lips barely even moved.

“I bet no-one would notice,” Sakura said. “Don’t you want to try, sensei?”

Kakashi’s mouth was very, very dry, like she’d given him her next-morning hangover. His hands, placed at her waist when she’d turned to keep her from drunkenly tipping, suddenly felt lecherous. Hers rested on the table. He knew they packed quite a punch, but for now, they were just pretty. She’d had them done, with little pink flower decals under shimmery gloss. He could picture her stripping the polish off with acetone as soon as she received her next mission.

“Sakura,” he said, gently, but it wasn’t the gentle way he could have rejected her; took hold of her firmly and slid her off his lap and never mentioned it again. It was ‘Sakura, I hope you have a plan, because I cannot come up with one though I am intrigued by your proposal and stupid enough to go along with it’.

“It’s a long skirt, you know,” she said, and leaned forward, rising up slightly as she plucked the cherry in her glass by the stem.

He slid his hand down under her skirt, his palm flat against his own pants. With exceeding care, he undid the button of his pants and slid down the fly. It was equally easy to ease down the elastic of his underwear until he could free himself. Sakura leaned forward even further, weight on the balls of her heels, and pursed her lips around the straw sinking into her fruity abomination, and Kakashi lined himself up by feel.

She sank back into his lap slowly. She sank _onto him_ slowly. 

The skirt, voluminous and pleated, pooled over his lap and the chair and hid it all.

It was funny, he thought (dazed, woozy from lust) that everyone overlooked sleight of hand these days. Ninjas were far too occupied with genjutsu’s possibilities to consider what you could get away with using mundane means. Every single ninja in the bar with any sense would have noticed the drop in chakra from either him or Sakura necessary to shield their actions from view using genjutsu, but disguise the hanky panky under a skirt and the table? Completely unnoticed. Sakura’s pink cheeks were only alcohol related, and Kakashi had a whole mask to disguise his expressions. 

He worried a little about the security of the village, but only briefly, because Sakura clenched around him, and he hissed out a breath right next to her ear. 

She said nothing. He couldn’t see her face but he bet her expression didn’t change.

At the bar, someone proposed a toast, and a roar went up around them. Sakura didn’t hesitate to participate. But instead of drinking, she clapped, cheering with all the others. As she clapped, she bounced in his lap, finally giving the friction he needed. Then another ninja raised his glass to someone else, and the bar, realizing how fun it was to have an excuse to be both loud _and_ drunk, responded just as enthusiastically as the first. 

Sakura seized the opportunity. 

He kept his hands on her waist, and pulled her down a little harder than she might have come by gravity. Anyone would have only had to look at them to come to some sort of conclusion, Sakura bouncing in his lap like she was riding- like she was riding _him_ , or a particularly bumpy bus. But the commotion for whoever was being saluted- and it sounded like at this point it was every person in the bar wearing a Leaf headband- didn’t die down, and Sakura kept going, and he could feel the moment she came, clenching around him, the muscles in her arms going rigid.

And she knocked her drink off the table, but no one even turned to look over the roar of the crowd. Someone was standing on a table. There was chanting.

It was embarrassing how quickly he came from the spike of fear, the thrill of discovery, like he was a teen again, jerking into his hand and overstimulated by any sort of touch. Behind the mask, he grit his teeth and closed his eyes and waited for the cheering to die down. He wrapped an arm around Sakura’s middle like a belt and held her there, her back to his chest. It wasn’t likely to be in either of their top-ten post coital cuddles- he _really_ hoped it wasn’t in hers for lack of variety, but that involved thinking about Sakura’s larger sex life, and he _refused_ \- but at least it was some flavor of good behavior from him.

“The glass,” she said, after a moment, and tried to get off his lap. Soft, he slipped out of her, and he wondered how he was supposed to hide the stain on the front of his pants.

“Someone else can handle it,” he pointed out, not quite wanting to let her go. 

“You’re not the one who’s going to be picking shards out of someone’s feet if they step in it,” she complained, and with all due reluctance, he let her slip free. The folds of the skirt dropped even as she stood, and Kakashi was glad for the lip of the table, taking a moment to discreetly put himself to rights. 

“Buy me a replacement drink,” she demanded, the glass piling up in her palm, and Kakashi, sighing, took out his wallet and stepped over her exaggeratedly as he got up. “And get something to put the broken glass in.”

He watched as Sakura stood up, dumped all the glass on the tabletop, and, with no small amount of satisfaction, took his vacated seat. Maybe he would actually buy the drink instead of sneaking out. Odds were, she’d still be sitting there when he got back, and that was enough of a motivation for him.


End file.
